Comparing Apples and Oranges
by captivatedbythesky
Summary: Mush has difficulty with his name and its correlation with the English language. Blush. Slash. Fluffy fluffy fluff.


It was a beautiful day. It was the only beautiful day that Blink had seen in New York for a month. Every day that July had been filled with a sweltering heat or a monsoon like thunderstorm. This day, however, was beautiful. Of course, beautiful in July meant unnaturally cold.

It was cool enough that he didn't sweat under his cap, but warm enough that he didn't shiver in his shirt sleeves. The sky was a cloudless blue and there was no wind to blow the morning edition under a trolley. Days like this assured Blink that there was a God. Maybe he made him sleep in the gutter sometimes, or sent him a step-father that went after him with any solid objects in his reach. God did exist. Blink knew this because some day's the weather was beautiful. Those warm, windless days were God's gift to newsies.

It had been a perfect morning that was melting into a wonderful afternoon. Everything was going spiffingly, and had Blink used words like 'spiffingly,' he would have said much the same thing.

He was sitting under a grove of trees in the park. The leaves created a canopy that chilled the grass he lay on, cooling him and the beautiful tan boy next to him. Blink rolled over to face him and kissed him softly on the temple.

Mush's eyes always looked ridiculously like liquid. When Blink first met him, he avoided Mush like the plague. He was afraid he would start to cry at the drop of a hat. As Blink got to know Mush, who was the single happiest person he had ever met, he began to like the soft wetness of his eyes. The closer Mush's eyes looked to crying, the happier he - and now they, since Blink's happiness depended solely on Mush's - felt.

Mush rolled over to face Blink. There were liquid and he smiled. "Brought you somethin'," he said softly, setting a paper bag between their bodies.

Blink did not resist the desire to squeel. Now, he knew he should have. With anyone else he _would_ have. But not with Mush. With him he could quack like a duck without a second look. Without a second thought Mush would probably join him. Between the childish love of presents and the deeper love for Mush, who used what little money he had to buy him gifts, Blink could have gotten up and started to can-can. He did, however, resist that impulse as he didn't enjoy the thought of knocking himself out on a tree branch.

He opened the bag and found it filled with three shinny, red apples. He grabbed one out and took a slow bite. Mush knew that he was playing with him, eating the fruit in such a sensuous way. Mush also didn't care. He enjoyed the show anyway. His smile grew as he watched juice moisten Blink's lips and roll down his chin.

Then Blink wrinkled his nose, screwed up his eyes, and puckered hips lips in a decidedly unattractive face. He rolled over on his other side and spit the apple as far as he could.

"Bleh," he stuck out his tongue. "Mushy."

Mush's eyes were beautiful liquid chocolate laced with gold. That is, of course, except when he is angry.

"Mushy?" he said coldly.

"Yeah. Sour and soft and soggy. Mushy," Blink repeated.

"Mushy?"

"Oh," Blink said, eye falling to the ground. "It's alright. It's the thought that counts. I love your present because it's from you." This was really a new thought for Blink. The thought of a present being important more important than the present itself. Everyday with Mush realigned his thought process. It was a strange experience. Blink reached up to stroke a displaced curl.

The action was not well received.

"Mushy?"

Now Blink noticed that his eyes were dead and empty. They turned to mud. Blink may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but now he knew he was in trouble.

"Mushy?!"

He thought for a moment. He just balled a bad piece of fruit mushy. He often called the boy next to him the same thing when they were very alone and he was swept with a very strong feeling of love that he couldn't hold back. The thought dawned on him, albeit slowly, that _maybe_ Mush found that mildly insulting.

"Mushy?! _Mush_y?!"

No. Blink had done a terrible thing. He worked as fast as his mind allowed to try and repair the damage he had caused. While he thought Mush repeated "Mushy," getting more and more disheartened and catatonic sounding every time he spoke.

No. There was not way to fix this one. The only thing to do was watch as it exploded in his face.

"Mushy? Really? I'm sick 'n tired of that word. Too soft fruit, beds without springs, ugly girls, sappy stories! Mushy!" he started off on the tangent.

Blink thought that it would be best if he took a nap and waited for Mush to get to the end of this monologue. He did not try the experiment for fear of strangulation.

"I am not a too soft fruit..."

Blink suppressed a snicker at that comment and stopped listening shortly after. He was sure that Mush kept going on the rant. He simply tuned out. He hoped desperately for a good evening edition. He was going to have to buy Mush something to combat this break down.

Blink simply watched and nodded. The stomach would be out soon. Somehow Mush's stomach was bared in all arguments. Even the mostly one sided ones he had with the English language not bending to fit his nickname. So Blink watched and waited. All he had to do was drop a compliment and the fight would be over. He was every excited for that.

"Does this look like Mush?" he said, gesturing to the beautiful bronze belly as he lifted up his shirt.

"No! The opposite of mush. Rock," Blink said, patting the aforementioned belly. "I could call you Rock instead of Mush?"

Mush swatted at him, but it was a playful swat. He laid back down in the grass and let Blink put a hand in his hair.

Crisis averted, Blink thought as he saw the water fill back up in Mush's eyes. Or at least, he thought that with words he knew. Mush took a bite of the apple and kissed him full and hard on the mouth.

Mush swallowed with a grimance and said, "That is _bad_."

Blink just looked at him as he fell back into the comfortable position he was in, draped over him. Anyone else, he would have soaked for those comments. He just went back to playing with that little curl that was all out of place.


End file.
